


Darkening Skies

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, Post-Foxglove Summer, nightingale worries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:09:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6078792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nightingale knows a storm is coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkening Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Foxglove Summer; spoilers for everything.

There are some lines that should never be crossed. Nightingale had lived too long, faced too much, to see the world in black and white but there were _lines._

He'd never broken an oath, not through choice. He'd never let someone suffer if he could prevent it (there were many who'd suffered when he couldn't prevent it, but that was another story). He'd killed, but only when he believed it served the greater good. He’d always supported his colleagues, even when he'd vehemently disagreed with them. He'd never betrayed a friend though he had come close to trying to shake the sense into one or two of them.

Which made Lesley May's betrayal all the harder to reconcile. That it had come as such a short, sharp shock. That there had been no discussion or sign that she needed more help than she was getting. (Nightingale knew the blame for that lay with himself, for not seeing what was plainly there to see).

He could understand, in a distant sort of way, that her need to regain the identity stripped from her outweighed things like loyalty. He could also understand that she had a plan for getting herself out of trouble, though he couldn’t help but feel that she was horribly outmatched by the Faceless Man. But to have looked at that line, not just as an exceptional policewoman but as a human being, and boldly walked across it...that's what hurt the most.

Because what sort of teacher was he, if crossing the line ever seemed like the better option?

He'd said as much to Abdul, a week after Lesley's betrayal and while Peter was walking around as if his personal rain cloud was still following him.

“You're teaching adults, not children, police officers at that. Their moral education is not your responsibility.”

“I could have warned her, warned them both, about the temptations that they would face because of magic,” Nightingale had said. “Because of the world I showed them.”

Abdul had taken a sip of his tea and inclined his head at Molly, who had taken to hovering even more than usual.

“And yet you wouldn't change a thing.”

Nightingale had tried, and failed, to find an adequate response to that.

He still hadn't, when the weeks since her betrayal had bled into months.

He'd taken her on because Peter had asked, because she was good, and dedicated and because in the back of his mind a little voice that sounded a lot like his uncle had insisted that more wizards in the Folly was only a good thing.

He was beginning to understand some of his father's aversion to Stanley.

And yet he wouldn't change that, because Peter needed companionship in a way that Nightingale had once enjoyed. He was a diligent student, but sometimes having someone who wasn't his superior officer to bounce ideas off was more necessary than producing the same _forma_ again and again.

For Nightingale loneliness had become a warm blanket that he wrapped himself in when the world outside became too much; it wasn't hiding, it was recharging. As quickly as he learned one new acronym or worked out one new piece of technology two more popped up in its place. And he just needed to retreat, even if it was only in his head.

It absolutely wasn't wallowing, no matter what Abdul or Molly thought.

But it was a warning. He wouldn't wish his life on Peter, not when behind his apparently easy smiles lay wounds as cutting as Lesley's.

It was why he had encouraged Peter's dalliances with Beverley Brook. She was turning into a fine young woman, brave and clever in ways different enough to Peter to make them a good match, and she clearly thought a lot of him. Peter thought of others a commendable amount for a police officer, but not nearly enough of himself. It would do him good, to have someone look after him in a way Nightingale didn't think it would be quite appropriate to do himself.

It was important that Peter saw Nightingale as someone whose orders should be obeyed, not that he required absolute obedience – even if the very idea of Peter obeying an order without thought weren't absurd, Nightingale rather liked the fact that Peter was willing to challenge his ideas about, well, everything. But Nightingale very much feared the day was coming when he would need Peter to act without questioning him and Peter would hesitate.

He'd always felt that was at the crux of the difference between Peter and Lesley. Peter appeared to have so much faith in Nightingale's abilities, while really Nightingale could see the doubts, the assumption that Nightingale was exaggerating, that nagging need to quantify everything. Whilst Lesley appeared more openly sceptical of Nightingale's magic, but really she so very desperately wanted to believe that he was powerful enough to restore her face. He should have seen it coming, but he'd been blinded by everything else that he should have seen, but hadn't.

He hadn't needed Lesley's warning to know that matters had to come to a head soon though, he could only hope that from this point on he chose more wisely – spells, words, allies, friends. If British Wizardry was to survive another war, they'd need all the help they could get. Peter was making a good start, taking community policing to a whole new level, and it was only fair that he now started to pick up some of the slack, starting reaching out to old friends and making new ones. It wasn't enough for the denizens of the demi-monde to be afraid of breaking the law, they had to want to come to the Folly for help too. Policing by consent applied to everyone.

At least the hardest choice, of finding an apprentice who fit all the criteria he and David had once talked about had been an easy one to make.

Now all he had to do was make sure they both survived the apprenticeship.

It seemed a much harder task now than it had a mere year ago.


End file.
